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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696738">The Sympathetic Doughnut</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaiMirage/pseuds/AkaiMirage'>AkaiMirage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chronicles of Umino [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Gen, Kid Umino Iruka, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, Time Travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:40:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaiMirage/pseuds/AkaiMirage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alt. title: <b>Chronicles of Umino - the time traveling Iruka-turned-into-a-kid wreak havoc upon the village</b></p><p> <br/>A behind the scenes that reveals what the White Fang was up to during the little time traveler's strike in "Free the Hatake".<br/>E.g asking himself <i>who's that kid, and why did he give him a "sympathetic doughnut"?</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Chronicles of Umino [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919578</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Sympathetic Doughnut</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Another installment of the <b><i>CoU</i></b> series.<br/>This one, decidedly less "funny" in tone, but not all too gloomy.</p><p>Also, unlike the anime, Iruka is described here with black hair as that was, as far as I am aware, his hair color in the manga series.<br/>(Never came up in the other two stories, so didn't consider it before now...)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Difficult was the word.</p><p>Ever since that catastrophic mission that made even those he had used to consider friends curse his existence, everything just seemed difficult.</p><p>Waking up, difficult.</p><p>Seeing the frostiness in the faces of strangers cursing his name, Sakumo felt he was in a dream he didn't know how to wake up from.</p><p>An endless mist wrapping him up in a neat cocoon of bad thoughts. To the point he found even breathing to be difficult.</p><p>Having to face his only child's judgmental gaze, that he simply <em>knew</em> were as condemning as the stares that would greet him if he dared to set a foot outside of the sanctity of his bedroom walls, he simply couldn't.</p><p>He had tried to talk to Kakashi, on multiple occasions during his self-imposed exile, yet the words he'd been ready voice all failed him as he marveled over how innocent the young face of his son appeared to be.</p><p>Truly, if they had lived in a fairer world, would his child have needed to become a shinobi in the first place? Even now, those small, unassuming hands knew how to kill grown men even if they had not yet done so, and how could it be that their society was so twisted, so screwed up that such a thing was considered <em>normal</em>?</p><p>Sakumo was certain that there was nothing remotely normal about it, and perhaps he would've told his son that, if not for the fact that he was busy wallowing in shame and self-pity.</p><p> </p><p>"What are you doing, Iruka-chan?"</p><p>Frowning at the childish honorific his mother insisted on using, Iruka looked up at the tall woman that were returning his gaze with a patient smile.</p><p>Iruka lifted the bowl slightly, the dough half-done. "Pastries," was his reply, feeling bashful.</p><p>His mother didn't ask the reason why her son had suddenly become interested in baking, perhaps she thought that Iruka would take over the family business after all.</p><p>Before devoting their lives as shinobi, and their numbers dwindling down to just the three of them, the Umino clan had owned a bakery that, although not overly known, made a decent profit.</p><p>Certainly enough for their son to be able to live comfortably, if he so wished.</p><p>Iruka didn't have the heart to dash her hope just yet, so he said nothing as she helped him with adding a rainbow of sprinkles on top of the creamy frosting.</p><p>He didn't know if the White Fang enjoyed sweets, the few people he'd asked had been either unhelpful or exceptionally unpleasant, but figured he might as well take that leap of faith.</p><p>Everything is better with cake, no?</p><p> </p><p>Considering that he could count the people willing to socialize with him on one hand and still have fingers left to pour the sake, Sakumo was rather befuddled to wake up at the ungodly hour of 8 am, when the rapping noise at the door became too incessant to ignore.</p><p>His eyes squinted blearily, the man might've had one cup too many the night before, groaned and shielded his face into a palm, his other hand rustling his hair that looked as though it had come into contact with an electrical socket.</p><p>The knocking didn't let up. "Just a minute," he called out, on his way to answer the door, dragging each step.</p><p>Opening the front door, the sudden light burned his eyes, and for a brief moment he couldn't see anything.</p><p>When the spots eventually subsided, a short figure came into his vision.</p><p>It was a kid. A tanned kid, with hair long enough to require a hairband and black strands flowing freely in the gentle breeze, and a distinctive scar running across the bridge of his nose.</p><p>Sakumo couldn't recall ever seeing the kid before, but those dark eyes had a warmth to them, which told him that he probably had no need to be suspicious of the yet to be named kid's intentions.</p><p>"Yes?" He couldn't help the weariness creep into his tone, slowly relaxing when the boy smiled disarmingly at him with the honesty only a child could.</p><p>"I, uh," the hesitation in the boy's voice was surprisingly endearing, Sakumo thought, exhaling slowly as he reminded himself to breathe.</p><p>He'd been enough of a bother to his son as it was. No need to frighten the child currently standing on his doorstep with a box in his hands.</p><p>The fact that he'd been so down as of late was embarrassing even without scarring the next generation with his ongoing crisis.</p><p> </p><p>Iruka smiled tentatively up at the hero, shifting his stance slightly.</p><p>Before this moment, he'd never been close enough to approach him, much less talk to him.</p><p>He couldn't help feeling nervous, as he put the white box down onto the doorstep. "This is for you," he mumbled, before dashing off so that the man with hair the color of the moon would have no time to reject the gift Iruka had spent all morning to prepare.</p><p> </p><p>This would turn out to be one of many meetings with the strange little child he would learn was one of his biggest supporters despite his small size.</p><p>Sakumo didn't know that at this point in time, however, so he wondered for what reason the child he yet didn't know by name had to seek him out.</p><p>What had he wanted, that he'd visit the disgraced jonin nobody wanted to get within ten feet of?</p><p>Glancing down at the 'present' at the doorstep, the content made him chuckle, despite feeling befuddled.</p><p>Another question to be asked, he considered, walking back inside, was why the kid had left him with a box full of doughnuts.</p><p> </p><p>It took five more days before Sakumo learned the name of his provider of pastries. Umino Iruka. A prepubescent still going to the academy, and, as rumors would have it, a little terror.</p><p>It took guts, he admitted, to prank the Hokage himself, and he almost, <em>almost</em> lamented that he hadn't been around to see that.</p><p>Apparently, Umino - <em>''call me Iruka!''</em> - disagreed with the majority of the villagers regarding Sakumo's decision, and had been <strong>very</strong> outspoken about his displeasure.</p><p>As endearing as it was, it had to stop. Not only because the campaign the child undertook in his name had already landed the kid in trouble with the KMPF, the villagers's growing antipathy was worrying.</p><p>Iruka needed to understand that good intentions only take you so far.</p><p>Yes, the next time the kid shows up for a visit, he would tell him.</p><p> </p><p>The next visit, he didn't tell him.</p><p> </p><p>"Would be better for everyone if I wasn't here", is what he said instead.</p><p>The words rang somewhat hollow in his ears, but he knew it must be true. After all, who would miss him if he was gone? <em>Kakashi?</em></p><p>He smiled at that. Kakashi would be able to rise against the odds, if his wretched father wasn't there to pull him down. He'd be fine...</p><p>"Do you truly believe that, Hatake-san?" The question jolted him out of his train of thought, enough so that he nearly spilled his tea and he sent a sharp look at Iruka.</p><p>The formality didn't seem right, not when it was uttered by the lips of a kid as dauntless as Iruka.</p><p>Swallowing a mouthful of the soothing chamomile flavored liquid, before returning his gaze to the boy that was observing him patiently.</p><p>Iruka gazed upon him with an understanding that seemed beyond his years. It amazed him.</p><p>Shuffling another colorful pastry to him, the boy smiled wistfully, as though he knew a secret only he were privy to.</p><p>"Have a doughnut, sir, and your assumption is incorrect."</p><p>Was it? How come? The hesitation and disbelief must've shown on his face, as the child resolutely nodded.</p><p>"The villagers <em>do</em> need you, even if they're too pigheaded to see that right now.</p><p>Not to mention your son. Kakashi need your guidance. He <strong>does</strong> love you, you know?"</p><p><em>I know</em>, he wanted to say, but he wasn't so sure anymore.</p><p>One of the treacherous tears he'd tried to hold back fell into his lap, quickly joined by numerous others. He felt so pitiful.</p><p>Iruka was right, though. It didn't matter how much he was trashed. The allegations, ill wills, was slowly killing him and so far he'd let them.</p><p>What did it matter what those people thought of him, if his name was spoken only as a deterrent, an example of how <em>not </em>to be?</p><p>He'd almost lost sight on what was important through this seemingly endless sea of hatred tearing at his heart. <em>No more!</em></p><p> </p><p>It was a lie to claim his road to recovery went without a hitch.</p><p>Several nights, Sakumo would wound up crying himself to sleep, the exhaustion still wearing him down, and the abstinence causing him to shiver didn't help matters any. <em>Just one bottle couldn't hurt, surely</em>, his mind whispered to him, and although he did manage to stay away from anything remotely alcoholic, the struggle didn't help him with his self-esteem.</p><p>He'd not realized just how bad it had gotten, until when he tried to return back to what he'd once perceived as normal.</p><p>Probably, that normalcy would not come to him for quite some time, but at least now he could look into his son's eyes without the urge to sink through the floorboards in shame.</p><p>He was ready now to face those cold eyes and hateful sneers of the villagers. Ready to prove them wrong.</p><p>Now, he could finally <em>believe</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <i>AN:<br/>After the mention of people not trusting the Uminos with baked goods in the <b>FtH</b> installment,<br/>the idea of the Umino clan owning a bakery just seemed like a fun/ironic thing to have<br/>and here that idea was briefly expanded upon. ^^</i>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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